Trading Spaces
by write25
Summary: STORY COMPLETE! Thanks for all the great reviews! When Jesse falls ill with a strange and persistent disease, it becomes up to the exchange doctor from Boston to help Mark, Steve, and Amanda stop a killer before he strikes again. All disclaimers apply.
1. Doctor Marion Warhurst

Trading Spaces Attempted ER Doctor Jesse Travis hated getting sick. And he didn't exactly favor 48- hour shifts, either. Unfortunately for him, he was forced to endure both of these events at the moment. Jesse took a seat in the staff lounge on the third floor of Community General Hospital. He laid his head back on the couch, not noticing the other person sitting next to him.  
  
"Long day?" her voice startled him.  
  
Sitting up, alarmed by the woman's subtle presence. Realizing that the voice had come from something incarnate and wasn't something that only he could hear, he pushed his brown hair out of his eyes and replied, "Two days, actually. I'm ready to fall asleep right now."  
  
"Oh, I know who you are now!" the young woman exclaimed, extending her hand. "You must be Dr. Travis."  
  
"Please, call me Jesse," he said, taking her hand. "And you are."  
  
"Dr. Marion Warhurst. I'm visiting from Boston as part of an exchange program."  
  
"Well, it was nice meeting you. I guess I'll be seeing you around the hospital," Jesse said, standing and proceeding over to the coffee machine. "You want some?" he asked while pulling his mug from off the rack.  
  
"No thanks. I don't drink coffee, never have."  
  
"Seriously? I wouldn't be able to make it through the day without my caffeine," he spoke between sips of the beverage. Suddenly, Jesse swooned and grabbed onto the table for support.  
  
Jumping up, Marion rushed to his aid, helping him down onto the couch. "What happened? Are you alright?"  
  
Shaking his head as if to clear it, Jesse replied, "Yeah. I guess I stood up too fast, that's all."  
  
"Are you sure?" Marion questioned, raising her eyebrows. "You really don't look too good."  
  
"You wouldn't look too great after working forty-eight hours without a rest," he laughed, and tried to stand, but his legs felt weak. He sneezed, and Marion gave him a look that distinctly said I-told-you-so. "What, this cold? I've had it for a few days, it's nothing. I'll be fine. But I have to leave now so I can beat the afternoon traffic." Jesse stood, holding on the arm of the couch with one hand to keep from falling, mug full of foul hospital coffee in the other.  
  
Marion called after him jokingly, "You know I'm right. I'm always right!"  
  
"No one's always right," Jesse slurred as his eyelids drooped and a dazed smile came across his paled face. His position shifted to the side as his eyes closed and he released his grip on the labeled mug. It fell to the ground with a loud 'clank' just before Jesse's tired body hit the cold, tiled floor of the lounge.  
  
Marion shrieked and ran over to where the young Doctor had fallen. She lifted his head off the floor, calling out to anyone who could hear, "Someone! Anyone! Help! It's Dr. Travis! Jesse's fainted!" 


	2. Diagnosis: Attempted Murder?

Jesse opened his eyes. It took him a minute to get his bearings, but he soon realized where he was. Recollections of the lounge, Marion, the coffee, and falling into blackness all gradually came back to him. Marion. The young, attractive doctor was sitting in a chair beside the hospital bed.  
  
"Good morning, Jesse. Feeling better?"  
  
"You must love being right all the time," he murmured cynically.  
  
"Well, you're obviously doing better. You had us worried for a while there."  
  
This confused Jesse, who was still a bit stunned after the day's events. "What do you mean, us? You're the only one in here."  
  
"You must have hit your head harder than I thought. You can't pass out in the hospital lounge and not expect to have all you doctor friends find out," Marion said. At that moment, Amanda Bentley, the pathologist and medical examiner at Community General, and one of Jesse's best friends, rushed in the door of Jesse's room.  
  
"Oh, Jess! I got here as soon as I could. Are you alright?" She took a seat on Jesse's other side and tenderly brushed his brown-blond hair off of his forehead. "How do you feel?"  
  
"Like I got run over by a bus," he murmured, his eyes barely open. "How long have I been out?"  
  
Marion checked her watch. "A few hours, I'd say. Now that you here, Amanda, I'm going to get something from the hospital cafeteria. Either of you want anything?"  
  
"I'm all set," Amanda replied.  
  
"Apparently, you don't know hospital food. I'm satisfied with drinking through this needle in my arm. It tastes a lot better," Jesse laughed weakly, gesturing at the IV bag next to his head.  
  
"I'll be careful," Marion said, also laughing, as she stood up and went out the door. Jesse smiled at her affectionately and closed his eyes. When the woman was obviously out of hearing distance, Amanda leaned over in her chair and arched her eyebrow at Jesse.  
  
"So, Jess, what's going on between you and Marion?" she whispered.  
  
"Nothing. We're just friends," was his pathetic excuse.  
  
"Right. You can't fool me. I can read you like a book. How'd you meet?"  
  
"If you must know, it was in the lounge before I passed out."  
  
"Fate?"  
  
"Maybe."  
  
"Well, just make sure you know who your friends are," Amanda warned him.  
  
Puzzled, Jesse gazed over at Amanda with a confused look on his face. "What are you trying to say?"  
  
"I'm not saying I'm right, but-"  
  
"Don't even say that. Look what happened the last time somebody said it," Jesse interrupted, motioning at his current and bland surroundings.  
  
"Anyway, I can't say anything for sure. At least, not until Steve gets here. It was his idea originally."  
  
"When you said you got here as soon as you could, you lied, didn't you?"  
  
"More like stretching the truth," Amanda admitted sheepishly. "Oh, here they come now."  
  
Mark Sloan, the head of internal medicine at Community General, entered the miniscule room, closely followed by his son Steve, a homicide detective of the LAPD. Jesse sat up in his bed; his spirits lifted by the arrival of his other friends.  
  
"Hey, Steve, Mark. What's this news about Marion that Amanda's dying to tell me?" he whispered hoarsely as Amanda cringed at his word choice. He could tell he was losing his voice, probably because of his previous illness. Jesse's friends stood edgily at the foot of his hospital bed.  
  
"I'll let you take this one, Steve," Mark said, backing up against the wall.  
  
"Come on, Dad!" Steve complained. Mark held up his hand and shook his head, leaving his son no choice but to tell the story. "Listen, Jesse. I don't have much time, I have to be back at the station at five, but here's the news. I stopped by the lounge before I got here. See, when you passed out, the coffee you were holding spilled out onto the floor."  
  
"Oh yeah, gravity at its finest," Jesse commented sarcastically. "Your point?"  
  
"Well, by the time I got there, the janitorial staff still hadn't cleaned up."  
  
"They were cleaning up after a exceptionally messy operation down in the ER," explained Mark.  
  
"I was supposed to be working that shift," moaned Jesse, resting his forehead in the palms of his hands.  
  
"Anyway, you know when coffee dries, it leaves a dark ring around the edge?"  
  
"Yes. Your point?" Jesse repeated. He couldn't see where this conversation was going. He found it getting increasingly harder to focus on Steve's never-ending tale, his vision blurred, and he felt himself dozing off.  
  
"Jesse! I won't take much longer. My point being, when I looked in the room, I noticed that the ring was white. Like some kind of drug," Steve said, lowering his tone on the final word, as if to keep someone from hearing.  
  
Jesse stared blankly at the Steve. He heard all of the information; he heard that there were possibly drugs in his coffee, but couldn't put it all together. It was as if someone had put his mind on slow motion, on the verge of shutting down, a result of his sleeplessness. Despite the fact that he had been unconscious for hours, the young doctor felt like falling asleep at that very moment. "What are you saying, Steve?"  
  
With a perfectly serious face, Mark replied to Jesse's question, "Jesse, it looks like someone tried to poison you."  
  
He sat, astonished under the white linens. "Why would someone want to kill me?" he asked, his tongue feeling thick and in the way, as if he were drunk, causing him to slur his words.  
  
"That's what we'd like to know," Amanda, brushing Jesse's hair again out of his way, said. "And what we're going to ask Marion Warhurst, the only person in the room at the time, and the as of now, the only person who could have done it." 


	3. A Kiss And A Murder

"Are you insane? Marion would never try to kill anyone!" Enraged, Jesse needed Amanda to restrain his ill, weak figure.  
  
"You don't know that, Jesse," she said. "You just met the woman four hours ago, you don't really know her."  
  
"Neither do any of you," Jesse retorted angrily. His temper flared and he felt his face flush.  
  
"We got enough information from the exchange program. We know who she is, where she went to school, who her parents are, along with pretty much anything else you could care to know," Mark explained from his seat across the room from Jesse.  
  
"I'm not completely stupid," the young doctor violently argued. "I can tell if someone would try to murder me."  
  
"Hear me out Jess. She was the only doctor in the lounge for the past hour," Steve further reasoned.  
  
"Damn it, Steve! Don't you get it? Marion didn't do it, and we're not even sure that something happened!" Jesse shouted, or at least, spoke as loudly as he could. HE was now definitely losing his voice. "Did you even consider that I might have passed out because I was tired?"  
  
"That seems a little odd, don't you think? And there's only one way to figure out what really happened. Nurse!" Mark called out into the hallway. One of the many nurses from outside calmly waltzed in the door. "Get Dr. Travis a blood test."  
  
"Yes, Dr. Sloan," was her automatic response. "I'll send someone right over."  
  
"Hold on. What exactly is preventing you from doing it?" Jesse said irritably. "Did they not train you to do that in school?"  
  
"They did, but I have to-"  
  
"Just do it!" he snapped, extending his arm. Hastily, the nurse withdrew a syringe full of crimson blood, depositing it in an orange biohazard bag. She scurried out the door closing the door quickly and silently behind her.  
  
Worry creasing her brow, Amanda looked quizzically at Jesse. "What was that Jess? That wasn't like you."  
  
"I-I don't know. I didn't mean to say that. I wouldn't say that.  
  
I guess I'm not myself today." Amanda noticed patches of color on Jesse's otherwise pale face. She placed the back of her hand on his forehead, but pulled back as his skin was hot to the touch.  
  
"Mark, he's running a fever. I think he might be delirious."  
  
"No, I'm not. I'm just tired.and sick.and possibly under the influence.and.and." Jesse babbled on incoherently.  
  
"Yeah, he's lost it," Steve said. "Is there anything we can do about it?"  
  
"The only thing we can do right now is let him rest and wait until he's better," Mark replied.  
  
"I don't know about that. It's always interesting to listen to him when he's seeing things or hearing voices," Steve laughed, referring to the occasion when Jesse thought he had been abducted by aliens. "Good times, good times."  
  
"You left me." Jesse repeated the phrase from the terrifying ordeal, pointing at Steve. "If you had stayed, that whole thing wouldn't have happened"  
  
"Let's not get into this again," Amanda said exasperatedly. "Mark, go make your rounds and Steve, you're late getting back to the precinct. I'll stay with him until, er. can one of you call Susan to come stay with him? I just don't want him alone with Marion until were sure of what's going on."  
  
Susan Hilliard, Jesse's ex-girlfriend and a nurse at Community General, had been checking in on some of the hospice patients in another building at the time of the accident. When she returned back to the main building, she immediately answered the pages that were being sent out over the loudspeaker and reported to Jesse's room, where Marion and Amanda were waiting.  
  
"Oh, it's you," she said unenthusiastically. "What happened? Trying to fight crime and screwing up like you always do?"  
  
"No, I passed out in the lounge earlier, and Steve thinks I've been poisoned," Jesse replied, sharing in her apparent irritation. "How long are you staying here?"  
  
"Believe me, I'm not that thrilled about this either," Susan said before Amanda introduced her to Marion. After shaking hands, Marion bent over and gently kissed Jesse on the forehead, her dark brown hair sweeping over her shoulders. Amanda, eyeing Marion suspiciously, noticed the fresh lipstick mark on Jesse's head. Susan rolled her eyes.  
  
"You hurry up and get better so we can maybe do some actually doctoring with you. Did you know that the administration has assigned me down in the ER, like you? We could work together," she said, her olive green eyes looking down at Jesse. He smiled.  
  
"Maybe," he sighed wistfully, still smiling a sort of crazed grin. "Bye."  
  
"Bye, Jesse," Marion called, strolling out the door, waving kindly at her new friend.  
  
"Fast enough for you?" Susan muttered sarcastically.  
  
"Yeah, I'm fine," Jesse, still smiling and gazing at the door, replied.  
  
"You, know, Jesse, there are a few things that I'd really like to say, but, given the circumstances, I won't," His ex retorted sardonically.  
  
"Whatever. Just shut up a second here, I'm trying to say something to Amanda," Jesse turned to the pathologist who had been sitting and listening amusedly to the ex-lovers' exchange.  
  
She smirked. "What is it?"  
  
Jesse pointed in the general direction of the door. "Did that look like the face of a killer to you?"  
  
"Well, no, but."  
  
"Then leave her out of this, okay?" Jesse said, tilting his head to see, through the window in his door, a large crowd of his co-workers gathered around the supply closet. "What's going on?"  
  
"I don't know," Amanda answered, standing up and heading for the door. "But I'll go find out. I was going to leave soon anyway, to go do.important stuff. If anything exciting is going on, like somebody's getting sued, I'll tell you."  
  
"Hey! I deserve to know first hand if someone's being sued!" Jesse called after her.  
  
"Well, if that happens, I'll be sure to tell them to get a better lawyer than the one you had when you were on trial," Amanda replied.  
  
"First of all, I was on trial for murder, and second of all, yes, that guy was terrible. I was in prison for a lot longer than I could have been, no thanks to him. I wonder how he ever made it through law school," Jesse shuddered, recalling yet more personal trauma.  
  
"Yeah, right. I'll see you in a bit," Laughing, Amanda almost closed the door.  
  
"Please, can't I come with you?" Jesse implored desperately, in a final attempt to get out of his room.  
  
"No. I promise, I'll tell you everything when I get back."  
  
"This sucks," mumbled Jesse, looking around at his pure white surroundings, his glare landing sardonically on Susan, who sat, arms crossed, in her chair. Amanda stepped outside and closed the door behind her. A stony silence ensued her departure. Jesse looked up at the ceiling, while Susan stared defiantly at the wall. Neither spoke at all until Amanda returned suddenly from the hallway.  
  
The resident pathologist looked thoroughly alarmed. Her eyes wide, she leaned against the wall and took a deep breath. "I'll tell you what I know, but I have to go perform an autopsy now. They just found Dr. Higley, you know, another visiting doctor, buried in the linen closet, dead. He was stabbed and from the looks of it, it happened some four hours ago, about the time you passed out, Jesse." 


	4. Phone Calls, Friends, and a History

            Amanda helped Jesse out of her car and into the wheelchair she had unfolded in the driveway to Mark and Steve's home.  She held out her hand for him to grasp, yet her mind was somewhere else.  Who had killed Dr. Higley and why?  How was Marion dealing with the death of the one person she knew from her home city?  She snapped back to reality when she felt Jesse release his firm grip around her wrist.    

            "I really don't think this is necessary," he complained from the chair.  "I'm sick, not injured."

            Closing the car door, Amanda carefully wheeled her blond friend to the front of the beach house.  "If you were still in the hospital, you wouldn't be allowed this much."

            "All right, I agree, it is a lot better out here.  Back there in the hospital; it was so weird, having my co-workers taking care of me.  I just couldn't take it."

            Amanda flashed back to the previous day, when she had been watching Mark and Jesse converse in Jesse's room.

            _"Mark, you have to release me.  I can't stay here any longer.  I have to get out," Jesse had pleaded.  _

_            "Jesse, your condition isn't stable yet.  And we still haven't determined what exactly is making you sick.  If it's contagious, we're putting others in jeopardy by releasing you," the older doctor had replied.  "That's a risk we can't afford to take."_

_            "But I've shown no signs of being contagious.  Neither you, nor Steve, Amanda, Marion or Susan or anyone else who's been in here has displayed any symptoms.  Please Mark, let me go."_

            _"Well, all right.  I'll release you.  But only on these conditions…"_

One of those conditions had been to have Jesse stay at the beach house, and to have Mark or Amanda come by once a day to check up on him.  He was to take his vitals three times a day and get as much rest as possible.  Amanda pushed Jesse's chair into the house and then brought him to a stop.

            "Oh, it's good to be back," he said, standing up, taking a cool, refreshing breath of Malibu air.  Before Amanda could tell him to sit back down, he collapsed onto the couch in a dramatic coughing fit.  Holding up one hand to Amanda to signify that he was all right, he tried to suppress his coughing.  After roughly a minute of such violent coughing spasms, he managed to regain control of himself, looking imploringly up at Amanda, who returned his gaze with one full of pity and question.

            "If we were at the hospital we could do something about that…" Amanda started, but Jesse cut her off with a threatening glance.

"I told you, it's nothing.  I was sick even before I drank that coffee.  You forget, I'm a doctor," pulling the afghan that was placed on the couch over his shaking knees, he whispered to Amanda in a hoarse voice.  

"Everyone knows doctors are the worst patients," Amanda replied while helping Jesse get situated on the couch.  After she had piled just about every blanket onto Jesse's shivering body, she went into the bathroom, and seconds later, emerged, holding two small white tablets.  Handing them to Jesse, along with a glass of tap water, she told him, "Here, take these.  After what's been going on, you haven't been getting much sleep."

Jesse tried to protest, but to no avail.  Amanda had to practically force-feed them to him like a small child, but he finally gave in.  When the sedative was beginning to take effect, Jesse very faintly heard Amanda say to him, "Jesse, I'm leaving the phone right here next to you.  If you need anything, just give Mark or I a call and we'll be over as soon as we can."

Jesse nodded weakly before his eyelids sank like stones in water.  He perceived the sound Amanda close the front door before drifting into a pool of drugged blackness. 

**

A ringing brought Jesse back into the world of the living.  He rolled over and tried to muffle the sound of the telephone, but his attempts were futile.  When the ringing stopped, Amanda's voice came out of the answering machine, telling Jesse that, because of a bus crash, neither her nor Mark would be able to check in on him until later on in the afternoon.  She went on to say that Steve was at the station and that if anything went on, Jesse should call him.  

When the message ended, Jesse struggled to fully awaken himself.  His eyes slowly opened as he swiveled his legs over the edge of the couch and tried to stand up.  But his weak legs wouldn't support his weight as he staggered to the bathroom to take his temperature.  Leaning against the sink for bracing, he splashed cold water from the faucet on his fevered face, fighting to rouse himself.   Still half-asleep, he placed the electronic thermometer under his tongue and waited for the telltale beep.  When the device revealed a temperature of one hundred and two degrees, Jesse pulled the disposable cover off and threw it out.  He stumbled back into the living room and crashed on the couch.

Minutes later, after Jesse had fallen back to sleep, the phone rang again.  This time, it was Marion calling.  The alarm lining her voice startled the young doctor.

"Jesse, I know you're here.  Please pick up the phone.  I'm scared.  Someone keeps calling my hotel room.  Making threats, things like, 'you're next,' and, 'you saw what happened to Andrew Higley.  Why don't you go back to where you belong?'  It won't stop…" At that moment, Jesse picked up the receiver and quickly tried to get Marion's attention.

"Marion, I'm here.  I know you're scared, but I need you to tell me exactly what is happening," Still trying to come to grasps with the situation, Jesse spoke as clearly as his tranquilized mind would let him.  

Panicking, Marion tried to explain what was going on to Jesse.  "I've been getting calls all day, since I haven't been at the hospital, but it was only, like, a half an hour ago they started making threats," she said.  "Whoever killed Andrew is going after me now."

"Listen very carefully to what I'm about to tell you," Jesse warned her.  "They might be watching your place, so…" he bit his lip, thinking.  "Why don't you come here?  But, in case they follow you, park your car a few blocks away and take a long, twisted path to get here.  And, um, try to get lost in a crowd or something so they can't follow you."

Calming down, Marion replied, "Okay, I'll be over as soon as I can.  How are you doing, now that you aren't in the hospital?"

"I'm fine, well, actually…we'll talk about it when you get here."

"Alright, you just rest until I arrive," Marion said, getting out the hotel notepad and monogrammed pen out of the table drawer to record the directions from Jesse.  When she had written them down, she hung up the phone, leaving Jesse alone in the beach house.  He closed his eyes again, wrapped the afghan tightly around his shoulders, and slowly drifted off to sleep.

**

"Jesse, honey, it's me, Marion."

Jesse tried to shake off his sleep, but it lingered over him like a dark cloud.  He attempted sitting up, but Marion's gentle hands held him down.  Tucking the blanket around his shoulders, she offered him a kind smile.

"You need to rest.  I just didn't want you to be too startled to find me here.  How are you feeling now?"

His eyes closed, Jesse responded softly, "I've been better.  And worse."

"Worse?  This seems pretty bad to me," commented Marion confusedly.

"A few years back I got a mutated smallpox virus and nearly died."

"Suddenly, this doesn't seem so bad," Marion said with a laugh, running a cool finger down the side of Jesse's fevered head.  "You have a fever, Jesse.  You really should be in the hospital, you know, until you're recovering…"

"Oh, not you too!"  Jesse moaned.  "Whenever something happens to me, I've got Amanda and Mark fussing over me the whole way.  I get the flu, and they make sure that I stay in bed until I'm ready to return to the hospital.  It's just so frustrating!"

"All right, all right, you made your point, I won't be at all concerned with you or your health," Marion said resentfully.

"So, how well did you know Dr. Higley?" Jesse changed the subject back to the woman sitting on the couch-

"Andrew and I met in our freshman year of college," Marion said, a dreamy look in her eyes.  "We met at the Newton-Wellesley Hospital, in the waiting room of the blood lab."

"Technician training?"  Jesse suggested.

"Hardly.  I was there for blood work, and so was he."

"Blood work?  I don't understand."

"The summer between high school and college, I was diagnosed with leukemia.  A went into remission before I started school, but I was missing classes for blood work and outpatient treatments.  I found it hard to fit in anywhere else but at the hospital."

Andrew had been in a car accident when he was in the eighth grade and he needed a blood transfusion or else, he'd die.  But that was before they screened the blood, and, by the time he graduated, he officially had AIDS."

A flood of emotions overcame Marion, and she sniffed, stifling the tears that were rapidly filling her eyes.  Jesse laid a comforting hand on her arm and stroked her flesh tenderly.  It took Marion a minute to regain her composure, but when she did, she continued her story without stopping.

"Anyway, I was waiting for my lab results, and so was he, and we just, sort of, fell into step with each other.  We had so much in common.  His parents had died not long after he started school; mine had just drifted away and apart after I started.   Both outcasts, we started hanging out.  Working together, studying together, going in for blood work together."

When we were both going off to med school, and by some miracle, to the same school, we considered marriage and having children.  We would adopt, of course, given Andrew's condition.  Only just after we started taking about the possibility, my leukemia went out of remission.  I had to go back to the hospital for chemotherapy, only this time it was better and worse.  Andrew stayed with me the entire time, and it helped, but I also knew that the cancer coming back meant that there was a greater chance I wouldn't recover.  But, by the love out our God, I went back into remission six months later.  I had more treatments and blood work, yet again destroying my chance at being 'normal' with the new crowd of people."

Jesse, listening profoundly, held Marion's hand tightly in his.  Being a doctor, he had always been near cancer and the like, but he never had it affect someone he knew.  He thought of saying something, but the right words wouldn't form on his tongue.  Instead, he looked up at her wistfully, begging her to continue.

"So, when we graduated, and finished our internships at Beth Israel Deaconess Medical Center, the same place I went for chemo, we both applied for residency.  Another miracle, we were both accepted, and we started, he as a psychiatrist, I as an ER doctor, like you.  Once we got settled in, we brought the topic of marriage back up.  After a long, drawn out talk, we agreed it would be best to stay friends.  We had thought it a good idea before, but we both had potentially life-threatening conditions.  If we got married and if we adopted children, and if the other one died, that would leave a child with a parent who could also die.  We didn't want to put either one of us in that situation, so we decided against it.  My feelings for Andrew eventually dissolved; I felt nothing more than a close friendship."

We decided to apply for the Doctor's Exchange Program, together.  We got our approval letters on the same day, and well, here we are.  Or rather, here I am.  I still can't believe it.  Andrew's dead."

After a few moment of silence, Jesse spoke up, "Tell me about the phone calls.  When did they start?"

"Well, the first call was at oh, seven this morning.  See, I was taking the day off from the program, and I had taken a sedative the night before so I don't recall exactly what the person said—" 

"Welcome to my world," Jesse said jokingly.  Marion laughed along with him for a second until Jesse stopped abruptly, asking her proceed.

"After that, I was getting calls every two hours or so.  He; it was a man, would say stuff about me going back to Boston, about Andrew, about coming after me next. Actually, there was one more thing….it was something I didn't completely understand…something about.…his son.  I was still half-asleep when I got that one, I'm not sure what he meant."

"Well, if it's any consolation, my friend Steve, you know, the cop, has been assigned to the case.  He's great.  There hasn't been a case he hasn't cracked.  I'm sure he'll find out what happened to Andrew," Jesse said, his eyes slowly closing.  "Well, if you don't mind, I'm going to go back to sleep now.  You're welcome to anything in the fridge, you know the drill."

Marion nodded at Jesse and planted a soft kiss on his forehead.  He smiled, she replied with a beam of her own. Marion walked back into the rest of the house as Jesse quickly drifted into a peaceful rest.  The last thought that passed through his mind was, _Marion couldn't have done it.  She had no motive.  She was the one who decided not to get married, not Andrew.  Whoever has it in for them either has a thing against people from Boston, or just the two of them in particular._

Sorry guys, my Beta is busy the entire month, so this one's unedited (by her.)  Be brutal, but please, no flames.  I would like any help on improving my story!! ~Mariah


	5. Fevered Dream

Jesse slept, completely oblivious to the world around him.  He didn't stir when Marion took a seat by his side and wetted his forehead down.  He slumbered on when she picked up the phone on the first ring.  But, early in the afternoon, something from inside his mind caused him to toss and turn.

At first they were only voices.  Then, a face, a body, a background all formed.  He was on the outside, looking in, watching dark people in a dark room discussing dark plans.  Beads of sweat formed on his brow as the people continued.  A man, tall and muscular, paced the floor while his assistant, a fit, military-looking woman sat at a table, listening.

_"We have to make sure our plan is foolproof," the man said.  "You have the vials?"_

_"Yes, for the fifth time, I have the vials!  We've covered that aspect of the plan perfectly.  You've got the schedule?"_

_"Yes.  Let's go over the fine points of the plot.  First?"_

_"Jesse Travis goes on break at exactly noon.  I need to get in there before he does, and no one can see me enter or exit.  Meanwhile, you create a diversion by injecting yourself with vial X5.  Just enough time for me to get in and out."_

_"And then?"_

_Exasperatedly, the woman sighed and continued.  "Then, while everyone is dealing with him, you go in, dressed is a doctor, and handle Higley.  Then we leave and are never seen again."_

_"Correct.  And all my problems will be solved.  Ah…revenge is sweet," the man said; punctuating the sentence with a maniacal, movie-villain, laugh.  The woman sighed exasperatedly and rolled her eyes._

_"You know, Sam, you seriously need to drop the evil laugh.  It doesn't work for you."_

_"How many times must I remind you, it's Jonathan!   The Jonathan Endersen!"_

_"You're crazy.  And just because I'm your girlfriend does not mean that you can treat me like your sidekick.  We're in this together.  We both want to take him down, along with that other doctor involved," the woman said, closing a briefcase on the table.  _

_"I'm not.  You're too insecure, Roxie, that's your problem.  You know that we'll both profit from Higley's death.  I trust you completely.  You brilliant bio-technician, if it wasn't for you, no part of this plan would work."_

_"You flatter me," Roxie replied sardonically.  "It's almost eleven.  We need to get to the hospital soon if our plan is to work."_

_Jonathan/Sam and Roxie picked up their supplies and walked out the door, closing it behind them. _

The light in the room was shut off, plunging Jesse again into blackness.

***

Moments afterward, Jesse awoke, sweating and shaking, a strange sense of knowledge coming over him.  Too weak to get up, he called out for Marion.  She came running in, a worried look on her face.

"What is it Jesse?  Is everything all right?"

"No.  I think I know who killed Andrew," he said breathlessly.

Marion gasped, and took a seat in a chair next to Jesse.  "Is there anybody we can call?"

"Yeah.  My friend, Steve Sloan, a cop.  His number's on the table," Jesse said, gesturing towards the phone.

Lifting the receiver from its current position, Marion dialed in the number for Steve's cell and waited for him to pick up.  When he did, she spoke calmly and clearly, telling Steve that 'Jesse thinks he knows something that you might find helpful in the investigation.'  She nodded and muttered a word of acknowledgement before hanging the telephone up.  

Jesse sighed, relieved.  Soon it would all be over.  The police department would find Pluto and Roxie, and everything would be back to normal.  Well, almost everything.  Marion would still be there, and there was still the matter of finding the antidote to whatever Jesse had been poisoned with.  

Suddenly, everything began to swirl around.  Trying to suppress the dizziness that overcame him, he squeezed his eyes shut, resting his head on the back of the couch.  The faster Steve got there the better.  Jesse could no longer deny it: he needed to be at the hospital.  

Marion helped Jesse up from his resting place and started to walk him over to the borrowed wheelchair so that he would be ready when Steve got there.  Jesse, still in his drowsy stupor, stumbled on his own feet and found himself face-to-face with the female doctor.  Thoroughly shocked, and still in a drugged haze, Jesse felt the fifteen-year-old in him leap out as he kissed her passionately on the lips.

Seconds later, Jesse pulled back, his face turning a bright shade of red. "I—I'm sorry.  I—I don't know what came over me," he started, but Marion silenced him by putting her finger to his lips.  

"Nobody needs to know of this, right?" she asked, helping him up.  "I mean, everyone already suspects me of poisoning you in the first place."

"That doesn't make sense.  You couldn't have killed Andrew, you were with me the entire time, leaving you without opportunity, and from what you've told me, I can tell that you don't have any motive."

"Oh, please don't tell me that you're a cop, too?  I don't think I can stand any more of them questioning me; they were practically attacking me the day they found Andrew stabbed.  I know they suspect me of killing him.  Jesse, I didn't do it!" she said, close to tears.

  
            "Marion, I believe you.  I trust you," Jesse replied, standing up.  He walked over to the door and turned the lock.  "Steve has a key.  When he gets here, he can get in on his own."

Marion pinned Jesse against the door and kissed him again.  "Well, Dr. Travis, I certainly hope you're not contagious…" she started.

"I think we'll be okay," Jesse said.  Fifteen minutes later, Steve still hadn't gotten there, and Marion and Jesse were still in the same place.  Tired, Jesse sat down in the chair, and Marion in the seat beside him.  Closing his eyes, he swallowed, trying to calm his racing heart.  Marion leaned over again, only this time, it wasn't am attempt at romance.  She pressed the back of her hand against Jesse's forehead.

"When Steve gets here, you're going back to Community General.  You need a doctor."

"I am a doctor!"

"I forget who said this first, but doctors are the worst patients," she admonished.

Jesse laughed, just as a nauseating shock ran through him like a bullet.  Memories of the time he and Steve were investigating a crime scene that happened to be a boat flooded back to him as he rushed into the bathroom.  He got down on his knees and retched into the toilet, while silently praying that Steve would arrive soon.  Marion looked on nervously at her newfound 'friend' being violently sick, wincing every time his frail body convulsed with the immobilizing pain.  She closed her eyes, rubbing Jesse's shoulders, trying to get him to relax, hoping for it all to stop.  

Finally, a key turned in the lock.  Marion ran out to greet Steve, who was closing the door behind him.  "Look, Marion, I went over some things, and," he shrugged.  "I'm sorry.  You couldn't have done it."

"That's great, I really appreciate it.  But that's not the point.  Jesse thinks he knows who killed Andrew Higley."  Marion led Steve into the bathroom, where Jesse, wiping sweat off his brow, we beginning to stand up.  The detective rushed to his friend's side and helped him over to the sink.  Jesse spat into the porcelain while Steve splashed water on his face while keeping him standing upright.  

"Jesse!  Can you tell me who you think did it?"  Steve half-shouted to the hunched-over figure.  

In between gasps for breath, Jesse managed, "Jonathan Endersen.  Or," he inhaled again.  "Sam Endersen.  Same…..person."  Then he collapsed into Steve's arms, his physically drained body gone limp.

Well, we're almost finished.  One more chapter!  I know what happens and you don't!!  Will update soon, thanks for all the great reviews!  ~Mariah


	6. It's All Over Now

Everyone was sitting in Mark's office, discussing the current situation. Mark was at his desk, with the rest of the group assembled around him. Marion was perched next to Jesse, supporting his pale frame. After a few minutes of Jesse describing his dream, Mark was silent, deep in thought. Everybody in the room could see the wheels turning in his head; they were used to it. Finally, he looked up, and everyone leaned forward in his or her chairs, eager to hear what the doctor had to say.  
  
"What really puzzles me is your wide spectrum of symptoms. I mean, it started with the high fever, and that's still." Mark looked at Jesse, who nodded. ".still present."  
  
"Incoherency." Steve said.  
  
"Then there was the coughing fit," Amanda added.  
  
"Dizziness." Jesse's head was still spinning.  
  
"And who can forget yesterday's nausea?" Marion recalled.  
  
"'Nausea' is putting it lightly," Jesse laughed, putting his arm around Marion.  
  
"Jesse, this is serious. Your symptoms don't resemble any one condition. They seem like-"  
  
"-lots of things put together, something only a biotech would know how to do," Jesse interrupted, proving his earlier-made point.  
  
"Exactly. So why don't we do a search on biotechnology students, especially those who have a criminal record," Leaning over his computer, Mark entered the database. "Her name was Roxie.Roxanne?"  
  
Finally, the search stopped, and Mark looked up from the screen. "Here she is. Roxanne Chandler. Biotechnology student at Massachusetts Institute of Technology. Kicked out in her second year for 'improper and questionable use of equipment.'"  
  
"That has to be her. But now the question is: how do we get them, and before they strike again?" Jesse asked. He wanted the entire experience over with. Except for Marion, he wanted her to stay forever.  
  
"I have an idea," Mark said, after thinking for a little while. "It's a little iffy, it depends on a lot of things that may or may not happen. But, as of now, it's all we have."  
  
**  
  
Jesse and Marion both knew the plan. While he was dropped off at the beach house, she would follow a predetermined path, monitored by the police, which looked like an attempt at throwing off her followers. She would drive slow, but take a long, winding way to her final destination to lure the two villains to Mark's house, which was being observed by a team from Steve's precinct.  
  
When Jesse picked up the phone, he listened to every word Steve had to say. "Marion just passed by, loosely but definitely followed by a navy blue sedan. It's got to be them."  
  
"Great. I'll turn the tape recorder on," Reaching under the guest bed; Jesse felt with his fingers until he found the 'record' button on the high quality, police-owned recorder. A paramedic team was at the ready, should anything happen Marion or Jesse while they were inside. All they had to do was wait.  
  
"And remember, act as helpless as you possibly can. We may be able to evoke some sort of explanation of the drugs they used that way. They're turning onto PCH," Steve added.  
  
"Like I need to act," Jesse rolled his eyes. "I feel bad enough as it is."  
  
"Alright, Jesse, they're coming up fast, I had better go. Good luck."  
  
"Bye, Steve."  
  
"And you're sure the tape's on?"  
  
"Yes! Everything's under control. I hope." Jesse clicked the phone off and put that under the bed with the recorder. Snuggling under the covers, he anticipated Marion's arrival. As much as he wanted to see her again, this time was different. It wasn't just Marion coming over to talk with Jesse or talk care of him between hospital shifts. This time, they were trying to catch a murderer and his accomplice.  
  
Roughly a half hour later, Jesse heard the grinding of tires in the driveway. He listened for her key in the lock, and then waited for her to come into the room. She took a seat on the side of the bed that he wasn't occupying and started in on some lighthearted chitchat.  
  
"I'm so tired Jesse. I worked the graveyard shift last night, and I swear, it was one car crash after the other. We must have had five within eight hours," Marion yawned and rested her head on Jesse's shoulder.  
  
Jesse nuzzled his head in next to her neck and pretended to fall asleep exceptionally quickly. In reality, he was squinting outside, waiting for something. What he was waiting for, he wasn't sure, but when he saw it, he'd know it. After fifteen minutes of feigning sleep, he saw it. The man he had seen in his dream, there, walking across the beach, binoculars held up to his eyes.  
  
"That's him!" Jesse whispered, trying not to move his lips. Who knew how well Jonathan/Sam's binoculars worked?  
  
Five minutes passed, the man walked away, and Jesse closed his eyes again. He ran a lock of Marion's soft, brown hair through his weakened fingers. He was so tired; he was on the verge of dozing off, for real, this time, when he heard the front door shoved open. Heavy footsteps signaled that someone other than Mark, Amanda, or Steve had entered the building.  
  
"Warhurst!" The man shouted as he walked into the bedroom. "It's payback time!"  
  
"Hold on. Who are you, and what did Andrew or I ever do?" Marion asked, sitting up.  
  
"You know who I am. 1997, your emergency room, your hand, my son."  
  
"Wait. Just start from the beginning. Who are you?"  
  
"We'll get to that, later. Two years ago, my son's best friend died in a car accident under a drunk driver."  
  
"I'm so sorry, I wish we could have done something. Maybe you could contact one of my associates?" Trailing off, Marion could see that this man had no interest whatsoever in talking to another doctor.  
  
"It's too late. Nothing can help my son now. See, he was the driver. They were at a party, they were out late, they had a few drinks, and the next thing I knew, I was waiting for my son to come out of the ICU," Mr. Endersen pursed his lips, apparently trying to block out the memories.  
  
"My son survived. But when he was well enough physically to leave the hospital, I was still worried about his mental condition. When he was released, he was very depressed, as he had killed his best friend."  
  
Not soon after, I started sending him to a psychiatrist."  
  
"Let me guess, Andrew Higley?" Jesse attempted hoarsely.  
  
"Right. When we both thought that my son's condition was under control, he surprised everyone by attempting to commit suicide. He shot himself eight months, thirteen days, and four hours ago. I found him on his bedroom floor with a gun he picked up from a gang on the street and got him to the hospital."  
  
"I remember now. I was the attending surgeon that night," recalled Marion softly.  
  
"Yeah. He died in your hands. And that makes it your fault."  
  
"Hang on! You son held a .22 caliber handgun to his heart and fired, there was nothing anybody could have done for him," Insisted Marion.  
  
"That's exactly what you doctors want us to think! Maybe if you had tried harder, he would still be alive!" the man (they were still unsure of his real name,) said.  
  
"I met Roxanne at a grievance discussion group. She had lost her daughter in a similar situation. Higley was her daughter's shrink, they thought she was fine, until she ran away with some gangster and showed up two days later, raped and murdered. If Andrew had done his job, her daughter could have realized how good she had it, and lived. So Roxie and I began plotting. She was a biotech, I had experience in strategizing, and we both wanted revenge.  
  
"My son's name was Jonathan. When I met Roxanne, I decided to take his name, to honor his memory. He was never really dead. Not until the two doctors who are to blame are. And with one down, you're the only one left, Warhurst."  
  
'Jonathan' reached deep in the pocket of his leather jacket and pulled out a silver and black handgun. Turning it over and over in his hands, he laughed an evil-sounding chuckle. Jesse and Marion pressed their bodies as flat against the wall as the human anatomy would allow them. They exchanged terrified glances; they both knew: this was the end for either them or for the murderer.  
  
"The police never found the gun my son shot himself with. They said that the gangster probably came back for it before the cops got in. I knew where the gun was. I was the one took it. I was the one who kept it all these years. I was the one who planned on using it again," He lifted the gun, and aimed, making a hole in the plaster above Marion's head. He lowered it and summoned the woman over to where he was standing. Too terrified to do anything but obey, she stood, whimpering, and walked nervously to Jonathan. "Higley was killed with the knife Roxie found in her daughter's back the night she was killed. Again, dismissed as 'the gang members took it back.'"  
  
Jonathan grabbed Marion's head and jerked it against his chest. Holding the gun to her temple, he said, "Killed with the weapon that took my son, funny, isn't it?"  
  
"You are a sick and twisted man!" Jesse, shouting, tried to get up, but was stopped by a sharp pain over his heart.  
  
"Save your energy, Travis! You'll need it. I won't kill you, but you will have to live with the memory of witnessing your girlfriend murdered for the rest of your life. Which won't be very long, I might add. See, you started off as a diversion, but as our plan progressed, it turned into just having a little extra fun. It's a shame for you, really, if you had been at a hospital, you could have lived."  
  
Marion tried to escape her captor, but he kept a firm grip on her. "Any last words?"  
  
"Not today, Endersen," Marion said as calmly as she could before twisting her body around in some complex way, managing to knock the gun out of Jonathan's hand. She kicked it across the floor before shouting 'Now' as loud as possible.  
  
Steve threw the door open from the outside and some other officers from the precinct came running in. Forcing Jonathan's hands behind his back, one of them was able to cuff him before Marion let him out of the headlock. The officers walked a resisting Jonathan outside, reading him his rights, while Steve remained on the scene. Marion brushed off her jacket in a movie- esque fashion as she walked over to Jesse.  
  
"I guess I forgot to mention that I got my black belt before I graduated?" She commented as she took a seat next to Jesse, who had begun breathing very rapidly. His skin was clammy and his eyes were barely open. After attempting a weak smile, he closed his eyes and slumped over onto the bed.  
  
Marion felt for a pulse, but she found none. The paramedic team rushed in from the outside, closely followed by Mark. At lightning fast speed, they attached a heart monitor up to the patient, but the only thing it proved was that Jesse was as good as dead unless someone administered a shock soon. Two more medics came running in, lugging a heavy defibrillator behind them.  
  
"Paddles," Mark held out his hands. "Alright, CLEAR!"  
  
Jesse's small body jolted with the electricity, as a steady, comforting, pulsating sound filled the room. Marion exhaled and flopped back down onto the bed. Mark heaved a sigh of relief and stroked Jesse's forehead.  
  
"It's over, Jess. It's all over."  
  
**  
  
Congregated in Jesse's hospital room again, the four doctors listened to Steve's report of the two criminals.  
  
"After we picked Roxanne up from the car down the street, we arrested them both, and they cracked. Told us everything."  
  
"Anything about an antigen?" Jesse asked impatiently.  
  
"I'm getting to that, I'm getting to that. There's good news and bad news. When we were questioning-"  
  
"Wait! Don't I get a choice, which one comes first?"  
  
"Actually, it's more just news, it all blends together into one big, news- thing," Steve admitted, gesticulating madly to prove his confusing point. "There is no antigen.."  
  
"What!?" Jesse cried out.  
  
"But..that doesn't matter because the effects of the biogen wear off after time. It was engineered that way. See, if you were a normal civilian, and your best friends weren't doctors and an awesome cop," Steve struck an overly self-confident pose. "then you may not have survived. The heart issue was the worst and final step in the process."  
  
Amanda reached over and ran the back of her hand town the side of Jesse's face. "And it's already starting to die down. You're fever broke, Jess. You're okay."  
  
A smile spread across Jesse's face as Marion caressed his hand with hers. "So I'm out of here?"  
  
"Well everything seems to be in order.."  
  
"And when you get out, there's something that's going to happen.." Marion whispered anxiously.  
  
**  
  
"Why do you have to leave?" Jesse asked Marion indignantly, and for the third time.  
  
"I already told you, there are too many memories here. Some bad, and some very, very good," she reached out and felt his face. "I'll miss you."  
  
"I'll miss you too," Jesse paused, and then took a small box out of his pocket. As he opened it, he heard Marion gasp softly. From it, he lifted a silver chain with a rose-shaped pendant attached. With a nod, he silently asked Marion permission, and she spun around so he could fasten the clasp at the base of her neck.  
  
"It's beautiful, thank you," Marion whispered in awe, still admiring the necklace.  
  
"I would have gotten you a real rose, but, unfortunately, I'm allergic," Jesse confessed sheepishly.  
  
"How romantic," Marion said, kissing him. A monotonous voice came on over the loudspeaker, and she pulled away. "That's my flight. Good-bye, Jesse. Thank you for everything."  
  
"Bye," Jesse tried weakly.  
  
Marion pulled a crisp slip of paper out of her jacket pocket and handed it to him. He unfolded it to reveal a long series of digits.  
  
"My home phone number. Call me sometime. I'd love to hear from you."  
  
"I will. Promise," Jesse swore, before giving Marion one last kiss before she got on her plane. He watched her take up her bags and board the airplane. She waved at him before she disappeared into the craft.  
  
She was going home. But Jesse felt cold and alone.  
  
**  
  
Back at Community General, Jesse, Amanda, and Mark were walking down the hall. Whomever they passed seemed to have something to say to Jesse.  
  
"Nice to see you again, Dr. Travis."  
  
"You're looking better, Jesse."  
  
"You make a better doctor than you do a patient, I'll bet."  
  
"That's true, Jess," Mark said.  
  
Jesse laughed. "You know, I think I could get used to this. Getting infected with genetically engineered bacteria is slowly becoming a hobby."  
  
"Well, you better find a different one," Amanda said. "I don't think I can handle the stress of you getting sick every time there's a murder."  
  
The three of them passed by to doctor's lounge, and Jesse stopped and gazed sadly into it. "It was only a month ago we met, there," he pointed to the couch. "I was there, and she was right there."  
  
"You miss her, don't you, Jess?" Mark asked sympathetically.  
  
"More than I though possible."  
  
"So why don't you give her a call? I'm not great with time change, but there's a chance you could catch her," Amanda suggested.  
  
"You know what, I will," Jesse walked into the lounge and picked up the phone. He carefully dialed Marion's number, holding the piece of paper in his shaking hand. It rang a couple of times, and then the machine picked up. "Hey, Marion, it-it's me, Jesse.." 


End file.
